


if i gave you my heart (would you break it?)

by a_stankova



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: 2x07, Canon Compliant, F/F, First Kiss, Soul-Searching, To a point, Villaneve, eve's an emotional disaster, inspired by 'unloved', short and sweet if you squint, villanelle is kinda soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 17:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19255912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_stankova/pseuds/a_stankova
Summary: “Aching,” she whispers, her accent tearing in two. She forces a smile, nods slowly as if pleased - Eve wonders if this is the first time she’s admitted it to herself, or if she’s finally figured it out in this moment. “I ache for you, Eve."





	if i gave you my heart (would you break it?)

**Author's Note:**

> Killing Eve has cured my writer's block - I cite Sandra and Jodie for being so damn talented. First fic for the fandom (on the shorter side this time but other, longer fics are in the works!) - kudos and comments are massively appreciated!  
> (listen while reading: 'cry baby cry' by unloved)

“I feel things when I’m with _you_ ,” she says, her voice low, and soft as velvet. She looks at Eve hard, holding her gaze with such silent conviction that the other woman is helpless to look away. 

Eve’s breath hitches in her throat - she hadn’t been expecting that. She wonders briefly if this is the truth, or if Villanelle really _doesn’t_ know how to be honest, but something in the way she stares at her tells Eve that yes, this is true. Or, at least, Villanelle believes it to be so. 

“What do you feel?” Eve asks, unable to help herself. 

Something flickers across Villanelle’s face then - something hard, perhaps nervous, as if she too hadn’t been expecting that. Her eyes crinkle in the corners, start to sparkle under the soft light just above the bed, and her mouth curls downwards. 

“Aching,” she whispers, her accent tearing in two. She forces a smile, nods slowly as if pleased - Eve wonders if this is the first time she’s admitted it to herself, or if she’s finally figured it out in this moment. “I _ache_ for you, Eve. Between my skull, and my thighs...and my ribs.”

She places her hand over her own chest then, over the spot where her heart is, her face breaking into soft, resigned laughter. 

Eve falters, her heart grinding to a halt inside her. What was she supposed to do with that? How was she supposed to feel?

_Me too -_ her tongue strives to curl around the words but her teeth clamp down. She can’t say it - she won’t. Hell, she doesn’t even know if it’s true. 

(Doesn’t want to think about what it would mean if it _was_ true.)

So she projects. “How do I know that’s true?” 

“Oh, I think you know,” Villanelle smiles, cocking her head to the side a little, positively gleeful. “You know me very well, Eve. Just like I know you.”

“You’re wrong,” Eve protests, but it’s weak, it’s half-hearted, because one thing that Villanelle has always been is two steps ahead of her. She probably knows what colour underwear Eve is wearing right now, just from the colour of her cardigan.

(In this moment, even Eve can’t remember what colour they are - _let_ _me_ , Villanelle would say, and she’d smirk as she slid her thumbs into the hoops of Eve’s trousers, dragging them down her legs and eyeing her skin as it peeked into view-)

“No, I’m not,” Villanelle sing-songs with a chuckle, snapping Eve back to the present. Her cheeks are bright with her fantasies and she swallows hard to stop herself from coughing, and she tries like Hell not to look at the younger woman because somehow, she always smiles like she knows exactly what Eve is thinking.

And that isn’t fair, because Eve _never_ knows what Villanelle is thinking. To climb inside her mind would be an exercise in foolishness, would almost certainly drive Eve insane, but the urge to see the darkness that lingers there is strong, burns and consumes her with all the heat and danger of a wildfire in the summertime. 

What does Villanelle think about when she kills someone? Is she thinking of their pain, their fear? Is she thinking about the time it takes, or what she’ll eat afterwards? 

Or is she thinking about her - is she imagining Eve watching her? Does she look into their eyes and imagine Eve is fucking her? 

Or does she look at her target and see Eve there - does she imagine crushing her hands around her throat, watching the light go out within her eyes? Does she warm her hands in their blood, and imagine it’s hers?

Eve suddenly feels her skin prickle, feels her throat close up. She’s been scared before, and never more so with this woman, but this feels different. She feels almost enlightened.

It’s not a fear of death, she realises, but rather the fear that Villanelle has been right this whole time - maybe they _are_ the same. Maybe Niko _is_ too normal for her. Maybe Eve just isn’t _normal._ Eve looks at her, wonders all of these dark, dangerous thoughts and thinks of nothing but Villanelle. Thinks of her mouth and how it would seek hers out, thinks of her hands and how they’d feel on her body, thinks of her eyes and how they’d glitter when she orgasmed.

“Eve,” Villanelle murmurs, her voice soft. She murmurs something then in low, crackly Russian, and reaches out for Eve’s face, her fingers gliding softly through the curls at her ear.

Eve ought to pull back. She ought to leave, and never come back. She ought to quit her job and take Niko and move to some forgotten about town in America, where nobody would ever bother them again.

But that would be normal. Boring. And hasn’t Eve had enough of that her whole life?

She covers Villanelle’s hand with her own, their fingers entwining softly, and she swears she sees the woman’s eyes get lighter. “What are you thinking about?” Eve asks her, because she’s desperate to know, she’s always desperate to know.

Villanelle hums softly, leans in just close enough to nudge her nose to Eve’s. “I’m thinking you are beautiful,” she admits easily. “And that you should kiss me before you change your mind again.”

Eve rolls her eyes, can’t help the huff of amusement that bubbles out from her throat. _Always two steps ahead,_ she remembers, as she kisses Villanelle with everything she has. _Maybe one day we’ll walk in unison for once._

**Author's Note:**

> @a_stankova on twitter - come say hi! :)


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